Bolts can always count on win against Raiders

SAN DIEGO -- Based on the air of amazement in the postgame line
of questioning, you would have thought the Chargers had just
invented a spaceship that offers affordable commuter travel or, at
the very least, a copier that doesn't jam.

Nope.

All they did Sunday was wallop the Raiders 28-14.

That makes it eight straight for the Chargers over the Silver
and Whack, more evidence that what was once a bitter rivalry is now
nothing more than a Harlem Globetrotters-versus-Washington Generals
clown-and-confetti act.

Still, the probing questions came in rapid succession Sunday,
questions hopeful of deciphering the Chargers' mastery in this
series:

Why have you had so much success against the Raiders? What has
your secret been? How do you explain it?

In these situations, it's bad form for players to tell the
truth. So they say stuff like this, from Shawne Merriman: "We want
to own every team we play." Or this from LaDainian Tomlinson: "I
don't know. It's weird."

Well, I know. And it's not weird. The Raiders stink. They have
for years.

Even the last time the Raiders were good, they were horrid,
losing Super Bowl XXXVII in a 48-21 embarrassment at the hands of
the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

That 2003 Super flop was at Qualcomm Stadium, the same concrete
fishbowl that served as the setting for Sunday's Chargers
runaway.

There was optimism that it would be different this time. That
this version of the Raiders was better than the ones that had been
losing to the Chargers at a 16-point-per-game clip.

The Raiders, after all, were 2-2 and leading the division. Not
mentioned was the fact Oakland's two wins were over creampuffs
Cleveland and Miami. Or that the AFC West is as toothless as a
jellyfish.

Turns out the Raiders are what they always are.

And what's that?

Well, the Raiders trailed by two touchdowns after 8 minutes. At
one point in the first quarter, they faced a fourth-and 42.

Oakland had a chance to tie the score at 14 just seconds before
halftime, but recycled quarterback Daunte Culpepper, who handles
the ball as if it were a rabid porcupine, fumbled away the
potential touchdown on a play that started just 1 yard from the
goal line.

Here's some more of it: In an ill-advised attempt at trickery,
Raiders punter Shane Lechler was asked to double as a quarterback
on a fake punt.

Lechler's teammates, apparently realizing the folly of the call,
switched the play back to a punt at the line of scrimmage. Problem
was, Lechler was the one guy who didn't get the message. When he
looked up to throw, there was no one around to catch.

Ever see a punter sandwiched by two bloodthirsty linebackers
(Carlos Polk and Marques Harris) weighing a combined 493
pounds?